


Extinction

by GreatWhiteShark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Ending, F/M, Moonflower Continuation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatWhiteShark/pseuds/GreatWhiteShark
Summary: After years of searching for his wife, Emperor Lotor finally faces the hardest trial of his life.[Lotor x Reader][Moonflower Series "Bad" Continuation]





	1. Extinction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Lotor fights against fate.

 

  


 

“Prince Lotor, your lessons for today are over. Explain to me why I have found you huddled away in the darkest corners of the archives.”

 

Lotor thought he was sneaky, thought he was fast enough to turn his lamp off before the glow could alert anyone of his presence, but he still had a few tricks to learn when it comes to being stealthy. The teenage Galtean slumped his shoulders in defeat, yet  _one_ raised brow from Dayak, and he stood ramrod straight again. Her own lamp illuminated the space between them and her sharp eyes could read the title of the ancient book he clutched in his arms.

 

“ _Ancient Galran Marriage Customs_ , I see. Young Prince, you do not need to concern yourself with such traditions so soon,” she watched a tint of magenta dust over his cheeks.

 

Lotor’s ears tilted down just a bit in embarrassment, “I...I understand. I simply wished to learn a bit more about them. For, ah...for  _preparation_.”

 

He was well aware that his pausing and stuttering were not acceptable in his Governess’ eyes. Lotor was nervous for two reasons.  **One** , at his stage in life, marriage should be the  _last_ thing on his mind. To have someone he respects see him jump the gun was a  _little_  shameful. And  **two**? It may or may not hint that he was  ** _deeply_** in love with someone already, someone he could not risk revealing to anyone in the castle.

 

Did he trust Dayak?  _Yes_. Would he tell her who you were, the half-breed sneaking midnight cuddles and chaste kisses in his bed?  _No_.

 

Unbeknownst to him, Dayak  _already_ suspected there was someone in his life, someone he sought refuge in where he could not with his family. Catching him with late-night reading only confirmed her guesses. Her nose was upturned, stern, and she stared down at the Prince with that infamous calculating gaze. Unreadable to all, but Lotor did not back down. He told  _half_ the truth. He really was interested and that alone was enough for her to drop her Governess role.

 

Just for tonight, she will be his  _nanny_.

 

“What do you wish to know, my Prince?”

 

Lotor smile grew wider in mutual understanding.

 

“I want to know how to make a moon blade.”

 

* * *

 

Emperor Lotor stood before the podium, pen in hand as he signed along the bottom of the page. It was no ordinary book he wrote in. This ancient text contained the laws passed down through the eons of the Empire’s rule. Everything from war and hostage negotiation tactics to marriage restrictions and land disbursements. He made a  **promise** to his soulmate many years ago that his first act as Emperor would be to  _change_ the ways of old. The treaty with King Alfor was obviously no longer in effect when Zarkon wrought destruction upon Altea.

 

Now,  _here_ and  _alone_ , he would alter it for the best.

 

He had  _everything_ he worked tirelessly for in the past thousands of years. The knowledge of quintessence, the resources of the Empire, the aid of Voltron. He had  _everything_ , except  **you**. Every step he took forward, he took  _alone_. While true he never wanted the crown,  _never_ wanted to rule this cursed and tyrannical Empire his father created, he needed it to find you. You were alive,  **somewhere** ,  _anywhere_. His soul ached and now he can use his new assets to continue his search for you.

 

“My lord, the Paladins of Voltron will be arriving soon.”  
  
  
“Thank you, commander. I will be there shortly.”

 

Lotor’s eyes read over his law, making sure every  _carefully_ chosen word was firm and according to standards. Any person(s) with Galran blood are free to  **marry** whomever they choose. There will be no persecution for  **marriages** within or outside of the Galran species. All  **marriages** are hereby protected by law in accordance to Emperor Lotor’s will. Placing the pen in the ink holder, he hooded his cosmic eyes and traced his finger over the word “marriage.”

 

As of now, under this new constitution, Lotor was officially  _married_ in the eyes of the Empire. He only wished you were here besides him to see it. To kiss him, to  _hold_ him, to smile and cry tears of  _joy_  that finally,  _ **finally**_ , you could be together as husband and wife.

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s mind gave him peace that night. It granted him a dream, a fond memory, tucked away deep in the crevices past despair and crushing isolation. Somehow, his heart took control, knew that he needed this for his own sanity. It gave him a sliver of hope and made him  _happy_ , even if it was only during his slumber,  _only_ when tucked in the cold, lonely bed. This was enough to hold him over like a love-drunk fool asking for one more shot, _**one** more, then I’ll be fine, I  **promise**._

 

A growl, a  _challenging_ taunt, a tumble in the field. He was chasing you again, hands outstretched to trap you in his arms, but like always, you managed to evade him. Too quick, he would commend you on the agility you gained over the years. _What? Can’t keep up without your little leg boosties, huh?_  However, Lotor was a smart man. Conniving, able to tip the scale in his favor, he was not above cheating just a bit to catch you. Altering the playing field for his own benefit. Pick at your weakness which he knew was, well,  _him_.

 

Lotor feinted tripping over a root and crashed face first in the bed of moon flowers, the air of playfulness suddenly halting to a dead  _stop_. His ears heard you let out a gasp of shock, concern for your best friend and lover since - how do you say? The  **bigger** they are, the  **harder** they fall? That absolutely applied to Lotor and you rushed over to him in worry. _Oh no, are you okay?_ The split second your hand turned him over, that mischievous catty grin met your surprised gaze and his tricksy arms whipped around your waist.

 

“ _Lo_ -!”

 

Now came the wrestling, the instinctual urge to try and pin down the other, to be  **victorious** in a show of strength. You tried getting the upper hand on this Galtean man who you thought was far too handsome for his own good.  _You are too beautiful for your own good, my dear._ He attempted to use his height to his advantage like many times before, so many times that he has _lost count._  Or perhaps he did not  _care_ about who won anymore. As long as you were with him, as long as he could _hold you,_ he would gladly let you sit atop him in smug satisfaction.

 

Lotor was a prideful man, yes, but pride be  _ **damned**_ where your happiness was concerned.

 

“You little cheater!”

 

“Is it still cheating if you won, my love?”

 

He never wanted to stop playing with you.  **Never** wanted to forget your face hovering above his.  **Never** forget those adoring eyes gracing him with such warm love, those lips sealing with his to fan both of your heart’s  _burning_ desire. Lotor was a man  _smitten_ with you,  ** _whipped_** by the soft touch of your hand cradling his cheek under the ambient moonlight. Romance or  **love** or dedication or  _loyalty_ or  _ **crush**_ , he did not know the difference. Right now, his chest, his heart was full to the brim for you.

 

Emperor Lotor clutched the pillow tighter against his chest.

 

* * *

 

Oriande was for Allura, not for  _him_.

 

During their flight back from Oriande, Lotor kept himself preoccupied in solitude to clear his mind. Or rather, find a way to overwork himself so that _crippling disappointment_  did not swallow him whole. He needed the secrets of Oriande for more reason than one. More reasons than he told the Paladins and, blast it all, he  ** _fucked_** up. The opportunity was gone and one more skill slipped through his fingers, gone with another chance to find you.  _Anything_ helped. He was a desperate man after all these years and to be denied for  **one** lapse of judgement left him bitter to the core.

 

A soft knock at the door alerted him of a visitor. He was in no mood to see anyone right now, but he had a title to uphold. The Emperor’s eyes widened in surprise when it was Allura standing before him, smiling softly and obviously still elated about Oriande choosing  _her_. Gifting her with the knowledge he spent 10,000 years searching for, his entire  _ **life**_  scouring for something that would help him learn, help him discover the secrets of the universe. And _more._

 

“May I come in?”

 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Princess?” Lotor stepped aside, granting her entrance before he sat at the edge of his bed, “Are we docking to the main headquarters soon?”

 

“Ah, no, we still have some time until then,” she took a seat besides him, hands folder daintily on her lap, “I just wanted, well, I feel as if I have not expressed my gratitude enough for all the help you’ve done. Not just Oriande, but with the Paladins and the Coalition as well.”

 

“It is a process, Princess. Soon, the universe will return to the era of peace, and the knowledge you received at Oriande will help achieve that goal,” he was respectful, as per usual, “The secrets can open more doors than you believe. Imagine, honing your skills to not only move between  _dimensions_ but to also find lost souls light-years across the  _galaxy_.”

 

That was why he wanted it. Yes, for quintessence, but more importantly, _for you._

 

A meek blush tinted over her cheeks at the praise and promising future. This was all she ever wanted, to bring peace in the galaxy. To repair what she could not in her 10,000 years of slumber. To do good by her father, make him  **proud**. Lotor and her had the same goal, same  _future_ , and she truly appreciated that it seemed more realistic now than ever. With Voltron, she knew it would take years,  _centuries_ , to fight the Galra and bring stability to all worlds. Now, it was only a few months away.

 

“We are in this together, all of us,” the Paladins, the Galra, she wanted him to know that, “If you should so need aid in some way or another, you have  **allies**.”

 

Lotor’s analytical eyes caught the way her face softened in adoration, in growing respect. That spark of affection...he did not  **return**. His plain facade showed no emotion behind his eyes and when she placed her delicate fingers over his hand, he did not  **smile** , did not  _ **feel**_ it. It did not  _melt_ his frozen heart. The only thing he did to show his true feelings was gently grasp her hand, rub his thumb over her knuckles in silent apology, then place them back on her knee.

 

“Thank you for the sentiment, Princess,” his voice was stoney, for her show of affections only made his own longing deepen in  **aching**  sadness, “I will do well to remember it should I find myself in need.”

 

Allura’s eyes were wide, girlish blush gone, and although she felt as if she was gently ushered outside of his personal boundaries, she understood well enough what he meant. She took no offense, no ill-will, no stab at his soft rejection. The Princess smiled at him once more and he folded his own hands on his lap. Lotor was closing himself off from everything, from  _everyone_ , purposely hiding his thoughts from prying eyes.

 

If he could not use Oriande’s secrets to find you, then he will do it _another way._

 

* * *

 

Emperor Lotor gazed into the  **abyss**. Dotted speckles of white and amethyst nebulas brought a sense of peace to him, reminding him of the blooming comet faces he kept back in his room. He had to find some way to get to you, some way  _besides_ Oriande. He was judged and now he knew he could not linger on what  **could** have been. Plan and move on, keep going forward. Keep exploring the wondrous possibilities in the universe.

 

His ears twitched and he  _swore_ he could hear you speak as if you were right besides him.

 

“I got my pilot’s license. Now, I can race you in  _space_!”

 

He would have  **loved** to. Loved to take you into a river of azul comet dust and show you how they moved with the flow of time. Perhaps even show you where he harvested gems from lingering asteroids floating past the Yolk Belt. Or adventure as far as the ship would go, as far  ** _beyond_** the universe until the stars no longer twinkled and it was only the heartbeat between you two in eternal darkness. Oh, how he would have  **loved** to experience it with you.

 

“Once I get a ship, I want to go that place you were talking about. With the mermaids? You know, to learn how to swim! We can  _both_ learn.”

 

He would have taught you everything,  _anything_ you wanted. Taken you wherever your little heart desired. To see a planet with 5 suns, a planet completely covered in snow or greenery or acid, a planet where it rained chocolate, he would bring you there.  **Explore** with you. Discover each  _other_ and  _anything_ for time had no meaning when you two were together. Love had no boundaries when he embraced you in his arms.

 

“You know...Lotor, we can...I don’t know...we can _run away,_  if you want. I would be okay with it, okay with you. Better than okay, actually. I never wanted to stay here for the rest of my life, anyways. We can find our own planet, our own  **home** , away from all of this. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

 

Yes.  _Yes_ , it would have.

 

Stars know it was a fantastical dream of his, of both of you. No title,  _nothing_ holding you two apart, no twisted claw of destiny shackling him to his father’s Empire. He wanted to  **cheat** fate. He would do it, for you, for just a glimpse of your smile. A whisper of your voice. A fleeting touch of your fingers running over his cheek in a lover’s caress. Lotor was both a weak-willed and strong,  ** _powerful_** man for you.

 

Fate should know when to  _flee_.

 

* * *

 

“Lotor.”

 

The Emperor had not heard that tone in a very,  _very_ long time. Not since he was under her stern classroom, in fact. Dayak had arrived and, in all truth, he had not expected it for several reasons. He initially thought she would be dead by now, especially after hearing the news that Zarkon had exiled her for “not teaching Lotor properly.”  **Bollocks**. He read the investigation script after he was banished. He knew the true reason.

 

Dayak knew about  _you_ , but did inform Zarkon before he stumbled upon you two that fateful morning.

 

If Lotor was being honest about his feelings, he was relieved to see his Governess well and alive. Enemies of the Empire,  _within_ the Empire, could have easily kidnapped her and held her hostage against him in some shape or form. He did not doubt Dayak’s skills with battling, but after all this time in silence? Perhaps he did wonder if she survived or not. Yet, here she was, aged but still the same teacher he respected growing up.

 

“Come with me. There is something of  **utmost importance** you need to know,” she demanded, leaving no room for objection from the Emperor.

 

Lotor’s brows rose at the immediate demand. He took no offense that, as Emperor, he was being commanded like a foot soldier. No, this was Dayak, and all formalities aside, if something was urgent, it was  _ **vitally**_ so. She did not joke about anything. He quickly turned to the Paladins and excused himself before following her footsteps side by side. They were heading to the archives.

 

When the door slide close behind them, Dayak turned to face him with only a few feet of distance separating the both of them. The privacy of the library told him one thing: this news was not meant for anyone else’s ears. It did not concern the Paladins  _or_ the Empire. It only concerned him and his Governess. She studied him for a few seconds before pulling a book out from her hip satchel. It was old, tattered and  _worn_ , but even Lotor could tell this was not any ordinary book.

 

Dayak handed it to him and he found there was no title on the cover. A journal, then.

 

“She wanted me to give you this.”

 

For the first time in his life knowing Dayak, he heard...guilt. Shame.  _Gut-wrenching_ remorse. Lotor’s brows furrowed in confusion, nebulous orbs locking with hers to seek answers. He didn’t understand. She.  _She_. Who is - and just like that, it clicked like the hammer of a gun to his head. His heart  **thud** loudly in his constricting chest. Breath halted to a sudden  _ **stop**_ and his eyes widened in mortifying  _disbelief_. All the nerves in his body and soul were rattling from one sentence and  _ **one sentence alone**_.

 

 _She_ wanted me to give you this.

 

She.  _ **You**_.

 

“Where is she?” Lotor asked, gulping down the  **painful** lump lodged in his throat, “Dayak, where is  _she?”_

 

Dayak knew. She knew  _all along_. She was harboring his beloved and did not  _tell_ him? Did not  _contact_ him?  **Why?**  He didn’t understand. He needed answers and he tightened his grip on the book, nails out and ready to respond in any way his instincts deemed fit. There had to be a logical explanation for this, but it did not stop him sending a glare of  _betrayal_ imploring her for an explanation. Why are you telling me this  **now?**  After 10,000 years, _ **why now?**_

 

“The day Emperor Zarkon banished me, I knew she would be vulnerable to his blood-lust. He would have  _killed_ her with you gone. I sought her out, found her in the field of moon flowers, and took her under my wing,” her eyes focused on the book, “He was after her. We had to hide, my lord. We could not contact you, for if we had, the Empire would have  **annihilated** the both of us in the blink of an eye. You  _know_ this.”

 

Yes. He was an exiled Prince with no army. Dayak even  _less_ so. Lotor gritted his teeth in impatience, waiting for her to continue. She did not answer his  _question_. She was... _stalling_.  **Purposely**. Choosing her words  _carefully_. That alone left a dreadful pit of unease bubbling in his stomach. Made him feel sick, both in the body and decaying mind. It was getting harder to breathe  _calmly_ and she could see through his eyes that this respectable Emperor was slowly putting the  _razor sharp pieces_ together.

 

“When news of your victory spread throughout the Empire, we journeyed our way back here, but there were...your highness, they were waiting for us to come out of hiding. An  **ambush** ,” Dayak closed her eyes and Lotor’s lips parted, but no words could be formed on his tongue, “Those who were still loyal to Zarkon, even after his death.”

 

Even after murdering his father in cold blood, Zarkon still  _tortured_ him.

 

“My Emperor…I  **failed** you.”

 

“No,” the sting of tears clouded his vision and eons of isolation began tearing him apart,  _reopening_ old wounds to show him that he will be alone for the rest of his  _damned_ life, “ _No_ , Dayak.  **No** , you’re lying. Don’t - don’t  ** _lie_**  to me!”

 

“I am  _sorry_ , Lotor,” she wishes she was lying, stars, she wished it  _so hard,_  and seeing Emperor Lotor become Lotor the boy  _crying_ in the closet only tugged her heartstrings even more, “She did not make it.”

 

 **“No!”**  he refused to believe it, even against all logic and evidence, “Where is she?!  _ **Where?!”**_

 

Even if his mind told him the truth, told him that if you were  _here_ , in this room, you would have  _already_ revealed yourself the second you could detect his scent. You would  _already_ be protected in his arms,  _already_ be kissing him and breathing  **life** back into his forsaken, brittle soul. The floor was crumbling beneath him and his quivering legs could not bear the crushing weight on his shoulders any longer. That bottomless pit he spent  **years** walking away from only grew bigger and  _ **bigger**_ , ready to swallow him whole and  **never** let him go.

 

Dayak said nothing as Lotor wept, brows knitted and lips snarling in frustrating rage, in powerless sorrow, in burning  _numbness_. He was gasping, nearly forgetting how to breath, and he could not hold himself together. Fate spat on him.  _Taunted_ him.  **Stabbed** him in the heart once more. A few days, he was late by a few  _ **damn**_  days. You were torn from his path yet again and this time,  **permanently**. Right here, right  _now_ , he was not above pleading to whatever higher power out there to have you back. He would give  _anything_ , offer his open hand like a humble beggar, for you to be returned to him.

 

“Please,” Lotor’s voice was strained as if some unknown force had been choking the life out of him, “ _Please_ , tell me where she is. Tell me she is still  **alive**. Say she is not…”

 

## Dead.

 

Dayak took a deep breath, finding it so hard to stand before the Emperor in this soul-shattering moment. In her years of being alive, she has  _never_ imagined that this would be the time her teachings broke in two. Victory or death. There was always an ultimatum,  _always_ a good or bad. She taught it to Lotor, she taught it to all of her pupils. Today would be the day she shared a new phrase. Victory  **and** death.

 

“There is something else, my Emperor.”

 

Something else? Something  _worse?_  What could  **possibly** be worse than coming to the haunting realization that not only once, but  _twice_ , Lotor failed his wife? He failed keeping his duties as a devoted husband? His head was bowed, hanging in  **defeat** , and Dayak’s voice was barely registering in his devastated mind. Dull, lost eyes slowly looked up to meet her apologetic stare.  _Just **lie** to me. Let me believe she is still  **alive**._

 

“Celeste, come here.”

 

A head of silver hair peeked over from the side of a bookcase, instantly catching Lotor’s blurred gaze. He recognized those orbs,  _recognized_ the hue and wide-eyed wonder behind them. Everything surrounding him, Voltron and the war, Dayak, the room with endless knowledge, it all  **disappeared**. Ceased to  _exist_. The only thing he focused on, held his  _breath_ for, was this little girl timidly hiding behind Dayak’s coat tail. And,  _stars and moon above,_  Lotor could pick out a scent. She was a mix of you...and of  **himself**.

 

Emperor Lotor was not only a husband, but he was a  **father**.

 

A strong instinctual side of him  _knew_ this child was his kin, his very own blood. It was in the shade of her hair, the pointed ears tilted down in nervousness, even by the skin color much too similar to his own. Lotor could see tiny nails peeking out from her fingertips to clutch at Dayak’s clothes and something inside of him  _stung_ seeing her be carefully hesitant. He did not want her to shy away from him, away from her  **father**. She was so small, so  _curious_ , that he dare not speak in fear of scaring her away.

 

He was too big. Too tall, too  _loud_ , too  _ **engulfed**_  in drowning despair that he knew he could not claw out of right now. Not in front of his daughter, his  _only child_  that was the last remaining proof of your existence. Your dedication to him. Your  _love_. Your final act as his  _ **beloved wife**_. Lotor slowly fell to one knee like a virtuous knight  _bowing_ before a Goddess, and Celeste’s grip finally loosened in cautious ease.

 

This is how you bring an Emperor to his  **knees.**

 

He must look like a mess right now, not at all how someone of his status should be. Streaks of sapphire tears stained his cheeks, hair mussed and sticking out too and fro, eyes that were wet with miserable  _grief_ and  _regret_  were now wet with...with  _radiant happiness_. Lotor tried to smile,  _tried_ to silently tell her he was not a dangerous man. Not to her,  _ **never**_ to her. Stars,  _she has your nose_ , and he wanted to know  **all** about her. What else did she adopt from you while he was pinned down by the cruel talons of fate?

 

“H...Hey! Who’re you?”

 

Tendrils of warmth crept into his frozen heart and  **hope** began to flourish once more.  **Love** began to grow once more. She had your voice, that same tone you asked when you first met him those many years ago. And just like those years ago, his voice was meager,  _hesitant_. He was fumbling for words, but his articulate mannerisms, his teachings, they were all for naught in the face of this wee toddler.

 

“Lotor. I’m...I’m Lotor.”

 

No Prince, no  _Emperor_ , no  **title**. A flash of recognition blinked behind those doe-like orbs, then Celeste allowed more of herself to be revealed to him.  _Oh, stars, my moon, she is perfect. Look at her, she looks just like you. Just as beautiful, the most beautiful being in all of the galaxies._  Streams of pure starlight was woven in her silky hair and she had the very essence of galactic cosmos painted in her eyes. Lotor was thrown back to his childhood years, facing his daughter with an extended hand.

 

_You have claws like I do._

 

“Do you want to play hide and seek?”

 

Celeste smiled at his words, and  _oh_ , she was going to be a heart-breaker when she grew up. She was already  **breaking** his heart, wrapping her stubby fingers around his soul and  _squeezing_ her way in between the cracks like she belonged there. She took his hand, staring in awe at how much bigger his were in comparison to her own, then she gently  _hugged_ him. He shut his eyes tightly in resolution, too many waves of suffocating emotions overwhelming him. Those little arms wound around his neck in such aloof naivety, such  _innocence_ , and further proving that  _this?_ This bundle of joy he shakily held in his careful embrace? She was  _your_ child. She was  _his_ child.

 

Celeste was living proof of your  **love** for Lotor.

 

She was his  **will** to continue on.

 

And he would do it.

 

For  **you** and for  ** _her_**.

 

* * *

 

“Mm...Papa…”

 

Lotor was purring unconsciously while his daughter slept on his chest, her small head tucked under his chin protectively. The throne was no longer made of shattered glass and bloodied thorns. Now, it was much more than that with Celeste resting in his arms. He would protect her,  _hold_  her, to feel that she was real and alive with him. He was a father,  **her** father. He would carry her forever, be her rock and pillar and raise her up should she wish it. She was his  _pride and joy_  and he will make sure she knew it  **every** day of her life.

 

_Lotor’s little star._

 

His other hand reached over to pull your aged journal on his lap. He wasn't sure if his heart was ready to face what was in it, still raw and tender from the news that you had  _perished_ where he had lived. That guilt will haunt his every step, from the second he opens his eyes to when his  _poisonous_ nightmares would take root in his slumber. Lotor’s bravery was hanging on the edge of a knife, but when Celeste shifted, he steeled his nerves, placed a reassuring kiss on the side of her head, and opened the cover to the first page.

 

Inside, it was hollow, and the familiar glint of a moon blade winked at him. Lotor’s eyes hooded in  _anguish_. The vines still  **glowed** just as vibrant as the day he gave it to you. He still loved you and his quintessence flowing in those threads  _proved_ it. Lotor loved _no one_ else since the day he confessed to you. He only wishes he could hear you say those _three little words_  one more time.

 

A video hologram popped up from the crease of the book and your face, just like the day he left you, was smiling peacefully at him. His chest  _ached_ ,  **yearned**  to touch your familiar cheek, but when his hand came up, his fingers phased right through the screen. Lotor regrets not showering you with enough compliments back then. You were beautiful, even on this fake screen, _stars and moon above_ , you were absolutely beautiful.

 

“Lotor,” your voice made his throat constrict, “I’m not on Daibazaal anymore. I’m with Dayak, but I guess if you’re listening to this, you already know that. I mean, I don’t know how you would know, unless...Never mind I’m just confusing myself. She said a journal would be good for me, but I just feel like an  _idiot_ without you. I almost just want to jump in a jet and go look for you myself.”

 

You leaned your chin on a hand, elbow on the table, and he felt his lips turn up in a small, fond smile. You were  _pouting_ , just like when he would tease you with the last quartberry on the vine. _I demand a kiss in full payment for my last fruit._  A few seconds of silence passed then you heaved a sigh, hand rubbing at your tired eyes before threading through your locks. He could see it,  _see_ how the time separated had worn you down, both physically and  **mentally**.

 

“ _I miss you, Lotor_. I know I said I would give you a year, but if you can come pick me up sooner, I would-I would be okay with that. More than okay. I want to say ‘I love you’ in person, not through some stupid screen. Your governess insists that this will help with the ache of being apart from you and I should do this every night. I’m willing to try it for my own sake. She said something about how you’d...you’d  **feel** it.”

 

You faced the screen as if you were looking  **directly** at him. Lotor seared the image of you in his mind, willing that this time, even if he lived for another 10,000 years, he will  _never_ forget you. Never forget your hair, your  _soft_ lips, the  _curve_ of your brow. Those orbs he could spend eons just falling in love with _all over again._  Your expression softened slightly in vulnerability, imploring that this message, these  _next words_  get to him. For his ears  _only_. For  _him_ , only  **him**.

 

“ **I love you, Lotor. Always**.”

 

Lotor silently closed the book and shut his eyes, allowing him to scorch the image of your face behind his lids. His heart beat in sync with Celeste’s and, for once since the last time he kissed you, his mind became filled with the important  **truth**. Of his accomplishments, of his  _daughter_ , of  _ **you**_ and what he achieved after all this time. The  **one** goal he thought was too far out of his reach while fate tore you two apart for thousands of years.

 

Lotor finally has a family to  **love**.

 

  



	2. The Giving Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Lotor reads a bed time story for his daughter.

 

 

  


 

 

“Papa,  _this_ one! I wanna wead - r... _read_ this one!”

 

A soft smile spread over the Emperor’s lips, a smile that  **only** his beloved daughter could pull out of his hardened soul. She was still learning,  _still_ stuttering with that lisp, but she was still very young, too. He watched her little hands push a book onto the bed then,  **oh** , she tried  _so_ hard to climb atop. Too small, she was  _too_ small and Lotor instinctively reached over to help her up, give her bottom a small lift. Grabbing the large printed book, she trotted over to him and held it up for him to see.

 

“ ** _Pwease_** , Papa?” her eyes held that pure, childlike wonder and how could he, the great Emperor of the Galra Empire,  _possibly_ say no to her peeking up at him like that?

 

Lotor gathered her in his arms easily and plopped her on his lap, the nightly bed-time ritual starting, “Oh, little star, very well. You asked nicely and I shall do it.”

 

Even if she  _didn’t_ ask nicely, Lotor would have done it anyways. For his daughter,  _always_ for his daughter.

 

Celeste gathered her scarf cape in her stubby hands, cuddling into his caging body and her comfort blankie. Perhaps Lotor will  _never_ be used to seeing her so trusting, so  _comfortable_ in his presence, yet he was a humbled man with every chance she loved him. Gently, his thumbs pried open the book to the first page, paper fluttering in the silent room as he cleared his throat.

 

“ _The Giving Tree,_ ” he announced the title, not a syllable out of place, “By Shel Silverstein.”

 

His daughter turned the page for him, knowing the cues by heart simply by listening to the tone of his voice.

 

“Once there was a tree and she loved a little…” Lotor’s eyes flicked down to the top of his daughter’s head, “ _Girl_.”

 

“Papa!” she caught on very quickly and his chest swelled in pride, “That’s not girl. That’s  _bwoy_...b-o-y.”

 

“Oh, my mistake.  **Boy**. She loved a little  _boy_.”

 

Pleased with the proper change, she turned the page. And he read the words for her. At first, he took little notice behind each meaning, each carefully placed “ _And the tree was happy._ ” This was a story about love, about time, and how time  _changes_ love. Yet, it was lighthearted. The boy would eat apples. The boy would play hide and seek. The boy would play King of the Forest. The boy  **loved** the tree.

 

“I want a  _wife_ and I want  _children_ ,” now, his heart stuttered, that  **one** sentence hitting much too close to comfort.

 

“Like me?” Celeste’s finger pointed at children, “Me?”

 

He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, “Yes, like you.”

 

By the last page, the Emperor’s grip on the book had tightened considerably around the edges, “And the tree was... _ **happy**_.”

 

“The end,” Celeste finished for him upon realizing the next page was blank, no more words.

 

She remained silent for a few seconds then looked up at her Papa with a question floating in her naive mind. Lotor was stoic,  _expressionless,_ and he knew it would set his daughter on edge. Make her wonder why was Papa looking like  _that_? How come Papa was staring at her so  _intensely_ without that overbearing love she was so used to? He closed the book and placed it off on the bedside table then allowed her to crawl up to his face, her small hands  _cupping_ his cheek like she would always do nights before.

 

Of course, she inherited his curious nature.

 

“Papa, _where is **Mama**?_”

 

Lotor’s brows crinkled a bit, his careful facade to be  **strong** in the face of his only daughter slowly cracking. She  _remembers_ her mother. Faintly, like when the crescent moon would smile behind blackened clouds. Celeste could feel the warmth of her arms just like how her father held her now,  _safe_ and  _secure_. But,  **oh** , her little heart was aching. Yearning for  _more_ kisses,  _more_ love,  _ **more**_ happiness.

 

And Lotor knew deep in his chest that she was right in every sense to _ **want more.**_

 

“I  **miss** Mama.”

 

And Celeste started  **crying**. Weeping,  _sobbing_ with sapphire tears stinging his very heart.

 

He brought a gentle hand up to cradle her into his neck, listening to her whimpers and sniffles wreck her tiny,  _trembling_ body. Pressing his cheek against the side of Celeste’s temple, he began humming gently,  _soothingly_. Still, her stuttering cries of “ _Mama, I want **my** Mama…_” only reminded Lotor of what he could not give her. He would lay planets, solar systems, galaxies and  _more_ at her tiny feet if she wishes it. But his  _wife_ , Celeste’s  _ **mother**_ , he could not do.

 

For a split second, he felt  _ **inadequate**_. Thousands of questions flooded his mind at the sound of his daughter’s heart-wrenching lament. Does Celeste have  _enough_? Are you  _supporting_ her like a family should? Can you bring her what she  _wants_? She wants a  _mother_? Should you remarry for your  _daughter’s sake_? Would  _any_ mother do? Will Celeste  **love** you for denying her the  _mother_ that perished years ago? Can’t you do  _ **anything**_ to soothe your daughter’s aching heart?

 

Are you a  **good father?**

 

Celeste’s breathing evened out, showing Lotor that she had finally cried herself to sleep and he wished,  _ **hoped**_ with every ounce of his soul, that she rest peacefully tonight. Taking a deep,  _shuddering_ breath, he carefully tucked her curled up form under the comforter then pressed his lips above her silver brow.  _Sweet dreams, little star._  Lotor tucked that one strand of hair behind her pointed ears, marveling at the beauty before him as he silently cupped her face in his palm.

 

“I  **love** you, Celeste.”

 

The Emperor silently left the bed, regal robes and long legs leading him to the window showcasing the passing belt of stars. He told himself that he would  _never_ cry in front of his daughter, never lay his turmoil of emotions for her to bare witness. Lotor  _needed_ to be the father, the  **best** he could be for her. Deep down in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew that no mother in the ever expanding universe can be what Celeste  _needed_.  _ **Wanted**_. No one could replace that bond she had developed so  _strongly_ with you.

 

And he already  **accepted** that he  _can not_  love no other than you, even if his heart ached in agony  _every_ day.

 

The tears started falling, but he did not stop their painful descent. Lotor is a  _good_ father, a  **perfect** father, for Celeste. They are a  _happy_ family, the proof before his very eyes each time she gave him a wet, sticky kiss on the cheek. He may not be able to bring you back for Celeste’s sake, for  _his_ sake, but he knew damn well he can raise her,  _support_ and  _love_ her, with all his being. With all  _your_ undying love and  _his_.

 

Lotor placed one hand on the cold glass, eyes blurred with deep-blue tears gazing into the accursed abyss, determination  _unyielding_ and  _ **burning**_ his soul.

 

He  _ **missed**_ you so bad. He missed you like the stars  _misses_ the moon. 


	3. Moonlight Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor finds someone waiting for him at the end of the road.

 

  


 

 

White was supposed to be the color of purity. Of good tidings and faith and the cold, chill of ice. The color of justice and righteousness for all. To Lotor, white was  _none_ of these. It was innocent years, it was guidance, it was peace and tranquility and the stars and the flowers and the moon and love. It was  **love**. It has always been his undying love for you.

His lids slowly fluttered open and that was all he saw. Blinding white light. It should’ve hurt, should’ve burnt his remaining sensitive retina, but nothing of the sort happened. Tired muscles pushed himself to sit up, then stand up, and with wary eyes, he stared at this unknown space. Between realities? No. This didn’t feel like the Rift.

Lotor watched as ornate metal walls began building around him from the ground up. A cushy bed, a family portrait from eons ago, elegant drapery and...a balcony. A  _familiar_ balcony, one he remembers sharing his first kiss with you when he was but a flustering teenager. Footsteps automatically walked forward and his hands, wrinkled and scarred with battle, pushed the glass doors open. He knows this room intimately, his cage on his home planet. No, not  _home_.

His home was not four walls, it was two arms gently wrapped around his body and eyes so beautiful, it put the galaxy to shame.

There was no solid floor below and no sky above. No land...anywhere, actually. Lotor leaned against the railing, taking only a few seconds to consider his options: stay here in his old prison or take a leap of faith? Venture into the unknown? With the practiced skill of his youth, he leapt over with ease and prepared for the inevitable fall. His aching joints may hate him for it, but he stayed put once before and it was the  _worst_ decision of his life.

Boots touched down on soft soil, much to his surprise. Or perhaps, not to his surprise. He had an inkling feeling where he was and his memories were slowly filling in the empty spots. Green grass began dripping into the blank canvas and with each foot forward, more of the scenery was revealed to him. The trees, the familiar orchard teeming with ripe fruit, Lotor knew exactly where he was going. His body’s old instincts knew that this path led to happiness.

There, he saw the shadow of a figure between the trees, but it wasn’t who he expected. It was  _never_ who he expected. Seems his luck wasn’t any better here either. Lotor stood tall and faced an all too familiar piercing gaze. Arms folded neatly behind her back, chin up, eyes staring down and judging him. She looked good, different from the last time he saw his Governess those many years ago at her funeral.

“Dayak?”

Her wrinkles were gone. She had hair flowing in curls down to her shoulder, a deep maroon color tinted with a sheer of purple. Those eyes still held the wisdom and experience only a seasoned woman like her faced in life. He thinks that he might be hallucinating when she offered him appraisal with a genuine smile.

“Lotor,” her voice was lighter, younger, “It is good to finally see you with my own two eyes.”

He wishes he could offer the same sentiment. Aging had taken sight out of his left eye, making his once nebulous iris pale. Don’t think she would appreciate the poor humor, something he  _still_ hasn’t quite gotten down despite his daughter’s many childish complaints. Lotor suddenly tensed up in full alert. His daughter.  _ **Celeste**_. He had to get back to her. She was still so young, she would wonder where her Papa went. He can’t abandon her, he loves her. He needed to get out of here, wherever  _here_ was.

“Where am I?” he questioned with urgency heavy in his voice, “I need to go back. I need to protect Celeste, she -  _my little star._ ”

“Lotor.”

“What sector is this solar system in? Planet Gronyal?”

“Lotor, you can not go back.”

His throat tightened, clenched in dripping horror. He gritted his teeth together, finding her answer unacceptable yet frustratingly inevitable. Dayak’s hand fell on his shoulder then squeezed softly, a gesture he remembers she did to calm him down as a child. As an old man, it worked just the same. Lotor’s gaze searched hers, beseeching her to _please, she needs me, my daughter._

He swallowed the hard lump in his throat, “Am I dead?”

“Yes. You passed in your sleep.”

He shook his head no, refusing what was clearly already decided for him, “That can not be. I can not stay here. I am not  _ready_ to stay here. Send me back. Celeste, I need to be there for her.”

“Lotor, do you not remember? You have already raised her. She is no child anymore. You know this.”

“I...what?”

That’s right. She wasn’t a toddler. She was an adult now. He watched her grow, stood besides her all those years, taught her everything he knew and more. He protected her, he had the scars to prove it. He held her as she used his chest to catch her tears. He told her “ **I love you** ” over and over and meant it every single time. She changed from the chubby cheeked little star to the brightest supernova the Empire had ever witnessed. No. No, she will be his little star forever and  _always_.

“She’s a splitting image of her mother,” Dayak softly interrupted his thoughts, “But she has your stubbornness.”

That truth managed to bring the smallest of smiles on his sad face.

“I did not get to say goodbye,” his voice,  _stars_ , it sounded small and regretful, opportunity missed, “Why can I not go back?”

Why can I not tell my daughter “ _I love you_ ” but one more time?

“Fate has a different path for you, Lotor,” Dayak took a step back from him, “Just as fate has chosen a path for Celeste to walk.”

A scoff, most unbecoming of his royal mannerisms in the after-life. He couldn’t cheat fate, no one could, and he accepted that long ago. It was one of the hardest cruelties to accept. Harder than explaining to young Celeste why she had no mother. Harder than the first time he disciplined her. Harder than watching her mourn over the death of her beloved pet.

That’s when Lotor realized there was nothing left for him to teach her. Celeste will always be his precious little star. He did good.  _Didn’t he?_

“She is going to cry because of me.”

“She is going to cry  _for_ you, Lotor. She loves you,” she watched his eyes glaze over with such melancholy tears, “If you do not believe my words, then perhaps you will believe hers.”

 _Hers_. She...you were here? Lotor’s old heart thumped under his scratched chest-plate. No armor could protect him from one little word, one little possibility that maybe fate will be kind to him. Maybe this time, maybe he will let hope foolishly tease him once more. He looked at Dayak with furrowed brows then over her shoulder and saw a white flower in the distance.

His nose twitched and his soul tugged him forward, the compass of his heart pointing north. More, more flowers began appearing and,  _stars_ , was it always this long to get to that field? That field of moonflowers, of late night tumbles, of loving kisses and equally as loving whispered confessions. Lotor’s pace quickened, heart pounding and yearning and crying so loudly for what was ahead.

When he reached the meadow, his eyes widened in disbelief and his body immediately halted at the sight before him. It was just as he remembered, the night he left you to the hands of fate itself. Your back was to him, _please, please turn around, **please** look at me_, and your hair was the same wild length like before. Still oblivious by nature, still as beautiful and perfect and, _stars above,_  Lotor felt his knees shaking. He felt young again, felt whole again.

While his legs still worked, he ran to you right as the face of his beloved turned to him.

The long cape billowed behind him before detaching at his shoulders, fluttering and disintegrating into thin air. That painful limp in his leg started healing with every step he took towards the moon of his life. Each polished spike of the crown perched on his head no longer felt burdening, no longer existed in this utopia. Lotor’s veteran physique, worn and beaten and aged beyond quintessence aid, began reverting back to his youthful years.

You smiled at him and he swears, he  _ **swears**_ on his very existence, he fell in love all over again.

Lotor’s body crushed you into a needy hug and he was only half aware of the breath he was holding in fearful anticipation. Oh,  _stars_ , his chest hurt, his limbs were quivering like a leaf in the wind as he clung to you for dear life.  _Never again. I am **never** leaving you again._ Face buried into your neck, in his home, his everything, he let those waves of emotions rock his fractured soul. That devotion and passion and love he harbored for you safely in his heart.

 **“My love** ,” his voice was no longer hoarse, but the affection was as clear as day, “My moon, my dearest, my light in the dark…”

_The keeper of my heart and soul._

“I knew you would find me,” your arms embraced him, kept him close, kept him safe, “Lotor, my love.”

Lotor remembers every instance he cried in his life. When his father threatened to kill you. When news of your death fell upon his unprepared heart. When Celeste cried for her deceased mother. When he entrusted her hand to another. And now, when you pulled away to look at him, truly  _look_ at him, as his full vision slowly came back. He could see all of you, feel you, feel the love he desperately coveted throughout his entire life as a mere man lamenting for you.

He let out a choked sob, a thankful smile strictly reserved for your eyes only, then meshed his lips with yours as a sign of the love bleeding from his soul. Life filled him again. Those years of isolation, gone from his mind. Nothing but this kiss, the tenderness of your lips, the spice of your scent, existed right now. Here, he was himself. He was Lotor,  _your_ Lotor, your husband, the father of your daughter, your eternal soul mate.

Both of you pressed against each other’s forehead, beaming and crying and  _laughing_ like the love sick fools of old. His hands found your cheeks, making sure the warmth he felt was real. You cradled his face and stroked those glowing marks, cherishing that finally,  _finally_ , he was here with you. And somewhere in the vast, dark universe, a pair of stars shined brighter in complete harmony.

 

 

  


 

 


End file.
